Take Me Out to the Ball Game
by chezchuckles
Summary: A Dash Companion. The Castle family takes baby Ellery to her first baseball game.
1. Chapter 1

**Take Me Out to the Ball Game**

* * *

"My ball," she hears.

Kate draws her arms up into her chest and buries her head deeper into the pillow, but the little voice comes again, more insistent.

"Mommy. Baseball."

She lies there a moment longer, just a second, and then she opens her eyes to the happy face peering at her from the side of her bed. "Baby."

"I'm not the baby anymore," he says with a little beaming smile, and then Dashiell grips the mattress and the blankets and starts climbing up.

"Sorry, always gonna be my baby." Kate lifts up to grab the back of his shirt when he starts to slide, pulling him in with her, and he wriggles like a worm as he comes in close.

"My baby comes with me?"

"All of us are going to the game," she answers, closing her eyes again as Dash burrows into her side, pinching in his eagerness. "Ow, baby. Careful."

"I wanna see Jeter."

"He's injured," she repeats. "Remember? He's not playing."

"I wanna see Maddy's boy, Jay."

"Russell Martin." She gives in to the wakefulness, the awareness strung like a live wire in her son, and she shifts to her side to wrap her arms around him and snuggle.

He's not so great at snuggling though. Dashiell's toes dig into her thigh and he squirms up and tries to twist his fingers in her hair and he's got a whole baseball game going on in his head, apparently, because she can see his mouth move and hear little snippets of his announcer voice.

Goofy like his Dad. Who will wake up if Dash doesn't settle, and that will not make for a pleasant game. She lifts her head and checks the clock, groans when she sees the time.

"Dash, baby, it's four in the morning," she sighs.

"I just so happy."

She laughs softly and knocks her forehead into his, kissing him. "Okay, okay, well, I'm glad you're so happy. But Mommy and Daddy both need to sleep. So what are the options here, wild man?"

"I sleep here."

"No, you won't. You'll talk instead."

"I talk so good."

"You do," she hums, shaking her head and closing her eyes. Her body feels _bruised_ she's so tired. A Saturday afternoon baseball game seemed ideal two weeks ago when Castle suggested it, even three days ago when she thought her case would be wrapped up by now.

It's not.

She ought to go in to work today.

She won't.

"Options, Dash," she reminds him.

"I not sleep at all, Mommy."

"I figured. What else can we do?"

"Hmm, you say."

"Well, baby," she sighs, snuggling him closer even as he twists and moves, little wild man that he is. "You can watch tv in the living room really quietly. I can make you a nest out there if you remember all the rules."

"I remember. Make it quiet. Don't wake Ellery. Umm. . ."

"Don't leave the couch."

"Yeah, that." He pops up, looking enthusiastic, half-curling smile in that face he's been making lately - the one that says he's all innocence and sweetness and _Mommy, I'll love you forever. _It's a Castle face if ever she's seen one.

"You want to do that? Maybe you'll fall asleep."

"Maybe I will," he agrees happily. So very awake. She sighs and pushes the hair back off his face, that flop of wavy brown that masks his eyes. Didn't he just get it cut?

"All right," she gives in. "Go upstairs and get what you need for your nest."

"Yay!" he cheers, then gives her those round and wide _oops_ eyes as he claps both hands over his mouth. Behind her, Castle stirs and his breath snores in but he doesn't wake.

She gives Dashiell an arch of an eyebrow and he hunches his shoulders closer to her in apology.

"Go, quietly, my man."

He leans in and grips her sleep shirt with a hand, leans in and kisses her loudly on the cheek. "You make my nest."

"I will. Go get your stuff."

He slithers right out of her bed and she sighs and closes her eyes as he goes. She hopes she can fall back asleep too.

* * *

Kate cuddles with her son on the couch, their two bodies swaddled in blankets and pillows and the thick, furry throw rug from the armchair by the window. Dashiell doesn't want to sleep, really, just watch his cartoons, but Kate lies on her back and drifts in and out, startling awake whenever her son laughs or changes position on top of her.

His weight is warm on her stomach where he's perched, his head pushed back into the cushions, and his fingers rub up and down her thigh where she's got her knees pulled up. Strange feeling, his fingers flat on her skin, and then she realizes it's because she didn't have time to shave yesterday.

Gross. "Baby," she mutters, snagging his hand. He turns slowly and looks at her, wriggling out of her grip and then twisting to embrace her drawn up legs, his cheek to her knee.

"Mommy, how much time?"

"The game's at 1:05. Is that what you mean?"

"One-oh-five. How much is that?"

"Mm, from now to then? About eight hours."

"Oh. What about Jeter?"

"He's on the DL."

"He won't maybe sit on the bench?"

"No, baby, he's not riding the bench. Disabled list means he's got to do a rehab assignment in Triple-A before he even makes it back to the Yankees."

"That's. . .hmm. Oh, I 'member. RailRiders."

Kate's eyes pop open in surprise and she glances at her son. Dashiell is still snuggled up to her raised knees, his warm little body kinda sweaty too, and she jostles one leg to get his attention.

"Scranton RailRiders. Yeah. You remember that?"

"I know all kinds of baseball things."

She grins. "You certainly do. Have you and Papa been listening to the radio?"

Dashiell wriggles with that childish, Castle happiness that always eases her heart to witness. "Me and Papa listen to the games. And Papa show me in the paper. They have scores. In boxes."

"The boxscore. Uh-huh." She nudges him with her knee again. "Thought you were gonna be quiet."

"I can be quiet." He lays his cheek back against her leg and his fingers dig into the tight space between her calf and her thigh, seeking the pressure. "I can be sleepy, I promise."

"It's okay, sweetheart," she murmurs. "You don't have to be sleepy. Just quiet so Mommy can sleep."

"But Jeter won't be there?"

"Dash."

"DL," he sighs, answering his own question.

Kate sighs too and closes her eyes again, finds herself half-listening to the cartoon about super hero pets. Dashiell is now practically straddling her raised legs, his body heavy as he relaxes, hypnotized by the television once more. She wills him to sleep, just for a few hours, please, baby. Just sleep.

She hopes the absence of Jeter won't be a thing today. With Dashiell's sleeplessness, his excitement over the game could tip him right over the edge into crankiness and then a full-fledged tantrum. And she knows how upset he'll be afterwards, if he falls apart at his beloved Yankee Stadium.

"Where are all my people?"

Kate jerks a startled gaze to find _Castle_ of all people standing in the threshold to the living room, rubbing his eyes. Dashiell perks up and holds his arms out for his father.

"Daddy! We all here!"

Kate oofs as Dashiell's little bottom bounces into her solar plexus as he launches himself at Castle.

"Sorry, Mommy. I mean, not all. My baby still sleepin'."

Castle has managed to catch the wild man, and he moves now to sit beside her in the nest of blankets on the couch. She pulls her legs up and sits to curl into his shoulder instead. Castle leans back and loosens his arms and Dashiell squirms around to get a good position.

"Why are you up?" Kate murmurs against his sleeve, taking a deep breath of his sleep-warm scent. Laundry and skin oil and something of them combined.

"I don't know. Bed was cold? I should be asleep. We all should be asleep."

"At least the baby knows what she's doing," Kate sighs.

Castle chuckles and shifts in the couch, sinking down a little more so that she caves into him. It's comfy like this, and warmer, and Dashiell seems to like being squeezed between his parents because he drops his head back against Rick's chest and his eyes droop.

Kate hooks her toes in a blanket and draws it up, catches it with her fingers and covers them even as Castle works his legs under her. Now they're piled up, stretched full out, and Kate shifts to keep from crushing Dash, the three of them together.

"I'm in a burrito," Dash mumbles.

Castle chuckles, that wide and sly grin on his face that wrinkles his eyes, and Kate smooths her hand down Dashiell's cotton pajama shirt. "You certainly are," she whispers. "Might eat you up."

Dash giggles, a kind of helplessly exhausted sound. "No eat me."

"So tasty, my little Dash burrito."

He giggles and she wraps her hand around his, brings his fingers up to her mouth and pretends to munch on them. Dash lets out a gasping laugh and curls in towards her, his arms flung around her neck, burying his face against her.

"Mommy, Mommy," he laughs.

"I got ya," she hums back, embracing him tightly, just like he likes it.

Castle's arms come up around them both, squeezing so hard that the breath leaves her, and his voice in her ear is amused and so tender.

"And I got you both."


	2. Chapter 2

**Take Me Out to the Ball Game**

* * *

Kate rouses slowly to the murmur of voices nearby, but she keeps her eyes closed and drifts for a moment longer, her mind slow to focus.

"Daddy, but Jeter will get better?"

"Shhh, yes. Jeter will get better. But you know, he's an old dude-"

"Old as you?"

"Huh. Well. Younger than me, actually. But old for baseball."

"Old for baseball?"

"Yeah, he's been playing baseball for a long time. And so, you know, might be time for him to retire."

"I don't like that."

"I know, buddy. But it happens. Life goes on. And when you're twenty years old instead of two, there will be new guys on the team. You'll love them too because it's the Yankees."

"Yeah, it's the Yanks," he sighs out, sounding so old and wise for her almost-three year old.

Kate shifts and lifts her head to see Dashiell perched on the arm of the couch near their heads, kicking his feet over the side as he talks to his father. Castle is sitting up a little, so that she's more against his hip than his chest like earlier this morning, but he's at least got a his fingers tucked into the back of Dash's pajama pants.

"Hey there, Mommy," he says with a little grin.

"You guys are awake?"

"Just," Castle answers, winking at her now. She shifts up and leans against him, yawning as she blinks in the light pouring through the living room windows.

Oh. Oops. She forgot to close the wooden blinds and pull the black out curtains for Dashiell. Darn. Totally her fault.

"Time's it?"

"Eight. Not bad."

She smiles and pokes Dashiell between the shoulder blades, rocking him forward and nearly tipping him off the couch's arm. "Hey, wild man. Turn around and give me a kiss."

Dashiell makes a face.

"I can offer to take that job off your hands, buddy."

She elbows Castle but Dash giggles and turns around. "Kissy face."

Castle grins back. "I like kissy face with Mommy."

"I want a kiss from my best man," she says, reaching for Dash and dragging him off the arm of the couch. "Come here, you."

"Hey now. I'm your best man," Castle huffs.

"No, no, no!" Dash giggles.

Kate kisses his cheeks, raspberries his neck, and then lifts up to look at Castle. "No. You're my groom. He's the best man."

Castle laughs, getting up from the couch and dumping them both into the cushions. "Well, the groom is gonna get breakfast. What do you want?"

"Hmm, no, I'll do it. You go wake baby girl."

"Now?"

"She's had twelve hours," Kate laughs. "Yeah, now."

"But why? She likes to sleep; let her sleep."

"Castle," she sighs, raising an eyebrow even as Dashiell wriggles out of her grip and hops to the floor. "She has to be on a schedule. You know that. Go get your daughter."

He grumbles but he heads for the stairs and Dashiell starts jumping for the kitchen, hop by hop, his hair bouncing on his head, his striped pajamas a bright green against the sunlight.

"Baby - choose one: waffles, pancakes, eggs-"

"You make me anything I want?"

"Well. Within reason."

"I reason eggs."

She grins and leans over him, scooping him up and swinging him towards the bar stool. He catches it with his feet and scrambles into it when she lets him go. "You reason eggs. I can do that. Toast?"

When he's quiet, she glances back over her shoulder to look at him and sees that clever half smile and the cock of his head, his hair falling in his eyes.

"I can have nutella on my toast?"

"Mm, you are all Daddy, aren't you?"

"He gets nutella on toast?"

Kate sighs and leans forward over the counter to stroke the hair off his face, cup his cheek. "No, baby. I mean you just remind me of your daddy."

But he ducks out of her touch and crawls up onto the counter, reaching past her for the bowl of bananas. "I have this with nutella too?"

Kate laughs and nudges him back towards his chair. "Don't push it."

* * *

Castle leans over the crib and watches Ellery sleep, reluctant to wake her despite Kate's insistence that the baby needs a schedule.

"Who needs a schedule, huh?" he whispers. "Not us. You and me, baby girl." But he sighs and reaches in, strokes his fingers down the soft, dark hair.

Ellery doesn't stir, her rounded cheeks pink with sleep, her lashes dark against the golden skin. She's got Kate's coloring and frame, nothing at all like Alexis was as a baby, and being premature probably makes her look even tinier.

But she really is so small. She's always been his little thing. Not yet a year old, and those fingers in a fist, her elfin ear. God, she's adorable and precious and the best thing to happen to him since-

since Dash. Since Kate. Since Alexis.

Okay, so there's no comparison, and no way to make a statement like that without the rest of his family, but sometimes he gets swept up in how much he loves them.

"Daddy's a little sentimental, baby girl. But that's okay. Means you never have to wonder."

Castle reaches in and scoops up his daughter, holds her against his chest in one smooth movement. She still sleeps, nestling in close to him, her mouth open and slack, absolutely gone.

He presses a kiss to the soft skin of her temple and she wriggles down a little in his arms. His palm is cupped at her head, his arm under the curled up legs, the heft of her bottom, and he sways with her in the middle of the room, giving her a moment, letting her wake slowly.

He hums and she squirms now, mouth yawning wide in that adorable way that makes him just absolutely melt, and then those so-blue eyes open to the world.

"Hey, my sweet girl. Good morning."

Ellery studies him for a long time, her head tilted, her body still curled up tightly, and then she smiles at him - beautiful, shy, adoring.

He just might have to sit down.

"Hey, Daddy came to wake you because we have a baseball game today. You remember baseball? This is your first game, baby girl. I think Dashiell is more excited for you than anything. Which is good since Jeter won't be there."

He heads for the rocking chair and eases into it, closing his eyes when Ellery puts her cheek to his shoulder and grips his shirt in her little hand. He strokes her back, cups her head, but she bobs up again, rubs her eyes against his chest.

"Okay, okay," he gives in. "You're up, huh? We'll cuddle later."

Castle stands and moves to the dresser, pulls out the changing pad and diaper from the top drawer. He gets to the floor and lays it out, puts her carefully down. Ellery goes for her feet, grabbing hold with a huge grin, making those little chirping sounds.

"Hey there, cricket," he chuckles. She bounces a little and rolls to one side, but he puts a hand on her belly and she stays easily enough. Dash. . .oh, Dash would never.

He changes her quickly, stripping the pajamas off and throwing them towards the open closet. With Alexis's bed still in the girls' room (even though she's in Chicago), there wasn't enough space for all the usual baby stuff - so no changing table - but he likes changing her on the floor better.

She's also a lot more calm and laidback about the whole process than Dash ever was, so that helps.

He leaves her rolling on the floor, grabbing for her toes, and tugs open a dresser drawer to look for the Yankees shirt they bought at a game a few months ago. They were supposed to have gone as a family but Kate couldn't at the last minute, so his mother came over and watched Ellery while he and Dash and Jim - just the boys, how proud Dash was of that - went to the game together.

Ah, there it is. Dashiell was reluctant to buy her a Jeter jersey, and he turned his nose up at all the baby pink (_Daddy, she doesn't like pink; she's purple or blue or black_), and so they settled on a retro looking NY in navy on a white shirt. Technically probably for baby boys, but really, Castle was just looking to appease Dashiell since Kate couldn't make it.

He cradles Ellery's neck and tugs the shirt on over her head, laughing when she blinks her eyes rapidly as it comes free of her face. "Ha, there you are. Now the arms."

As he dresses his littlest girl, he can't help remembering dressing his oldest when she was tiny, or laying out her clothes before school, and later, the hair. Alexis would come downstairs with her brush and a comb and ribbons or bands or sparkly things, and he would do his best.

He practiced; he was mortified the first day of kindergarten when he sent her off in a lumpy ponytail. All summer it had been perfectly acceptable, but for this exclusive private school and every mom judging him, it was suddenly not good enough. Not to her - Alexis never cared like that. But he did. He cared a lot.

His motherless girl.

Castle clears his throat and looks down at Ellery. "Not you though, huh, cricket? Never again. And now look - that wasn't so bad, was it? You're almost ready."

He tugs the little navy polka dot socks on her feet - shoes are probably in the bag downstairs - and then stands her up with his hands at her armpits. She bounces, grinning at him and sticking her fist into her mouth, pushing off against the floor and pitching her little body into him.

He grins back and leans in to touch his forehead to hers. "Ready for breakfast. I bet mommy gives you bananas to smear all over your face."

Ellery makes that chirping noise, so happy and awake now, and he kisses her cheek softly.

"I don't have Mommy's language, but I love you just the same, baby girl."

And then he scoops her up against his chest and carries her downstairs.

* * *

He checks everything one more time. The bag is packed tightly with stuff - sunglasses, hat, sunblock, sippy cup, bottle, cheerios, cheetos, diapers, change of clothes, his wallet, her keys, his keys, subway pass - oops, put that in his back pocket-

"Castle, you got snacks?"

"Yeah."

"More than one for each?"

"Uh."

"Let me add a couple more," she calls back. He lifts his eyes at Ellery, who is watching him from her spot on the floor in the living room, her feet kicking as she plays with the mobile.

"Add a few more and this thing will bust at the seams. Huh, baby girl?"

"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy! What about my glove?"

"Oh, oops." He straightens up and catches Dashiell the second he launches himself from the third to last stair. "Oof. Wild man. No more. I told you. You have to be sure I'm looking."

"No jumping from the stairs _at all_," Kate threatens from the kitchen. "I mean it. We'll stay home if you do that kind of thing. The stadium is filled with stairs you are absolutely not allowed to jump from."

"No! Not stay home. Please, I be good? Please? Tell her, Daddy."

"Dash can be good," he says cheekily, earning a glare from her. He smacks a kiss to Dashiell's forehead. "We're serious, wild man. You can't jump on the stairs."

"Daddy, I jump off the stairs. Not on."

He sighs and winces, but really, that's his own fault. The grammar, the word choice, all his own fault. "Okay, either one. You know how Yankee Stadium is - all those stairs? If we're worried about you at home, with just these little stairs, we're going to be worried that much more in the ball park."

"You not have to - you not worry me."

"We don't have to be worried? Okay then. No jumping."

"Never, never, never," he says solemnly, his hands cupping Castle's cheeks. "Where my glove?"

Castle cracks, laughs at his kid as he puts him down. "Go look in your closet."

"I already did."

"Look again," Kate butts in, handing over three more containers of snacks to Castle. He takes them and sighs at the bag, wonders how he's going to get these in as well.

"I already _looked_," Dashiell huffs.

Castle turns and grips him by the back of the neck. "Respect."

Dash slumps a little and then throws up both arms to his mother, whining. "Carry you."

"You do it yourself. You're a big boy; you should be looking after your own toys."

"It's not a toy. It's my _glove_."

He grips Dashiell's neck a little harder and pushes him gently towards the stairs. "Try your closet, in that big green bucket. One more time," he adds, forestalling another complaint.

Dashiell isn't down for long, because he's practically flying up the stairs by the time he reaches the top, and Castle can see Kate biting her lip to hold it back - the instinctive need to tell him to _slow down_.

He shoves the snack containers deeper into the inside pocket and wrestles the zipper closed. It was once Beckett's messenger bag; she took her laptop in it, files or paperwork that could leave the 12th. He still remembers the way the bag hit her hip, the strap across her belly as she left out that door the day Dashiell was born - running away from him, needing a moment to cool off, time alone.

She must have had the bag on her when she got a cab to the hospital later, must have had it in the room. He can't remember that clearly; he ran the whole way when they called, made it just in time - the details of what she was wearing that day, how she looked, those things are overwritten by everything that happened later.

But the bag. He distinctly remembers packing it up for her before they left, the three of them, sliding the smallest newborn diapers inside - the hospital had provided them - pushing in the extra baby clothes his mother had brought with her, all of Kate's things jostling with the baby's things.

Suddenly her fingers come to comb through his hair as he hunches over the bag; she pushes on his forehead. "You got it?"

He grins and shakes his head, tries the zipper once more. "Almost."

"See if something else can go."

"We don't need five snacks," he offers.

"Well."

"Four is good. Right? Two each. And Dash can eat Ellery's cheerios." Plus ball park food, but he won't bring that up.

She's still hesitating and he goes ahead and whips out the biggest one - vanilla wafers, which Kate always complains have no redeeming nutritional value anyway - and he tosses it towards the kitchen. The contianer hits the counter hard and bounces, skittering down the granite before coming to a stop at the edge.

"Score."

"Hardly," she mutters. "And look. You scared Ella."

He turns his head but Ellery isn't scared; she's just flipped herself over on her stomach and is looking intently in the direction of the noise. And then she's pushed herself up to her knees, and holy-

"She's crawling," Kate gasps, darting forward.

"Don't _stop_ her," he laughs, getting tripped up in the bag as he heads for Ellery too. "Whoa. She's fast."

"Oh my God," Kate says, sounding breathless. "Where is that stupid camera?"

"I've got my phone," he answers back, already sliding it out of his pocket and perching on the arm of the couch as Ellery scoot-crawls towards Kate. "Call her, Kate."

"Hey, baby girl. Look at you, sweetheart. Come here." She squats down just past the couch and Ellery pauses on her haunches, rocking back and forth like she's trying to get enough momentum going to propel herself forward.

Castle uses his phone to record it, whispering encouragement, and then Ellery lurches forward and uses a knee, one leg twisted like she might sit at any moment, to crawl towards her mother.

When the camera pans towards her, his breath catches at the adoration on Kate's face. She catches Ella up against her chest and laughs, kissing her cheeks and little fists, praising her, and then she lets her go.

If it were him, he knows he wouldn't have put her back on the ground. Too proud. He's just - good thing there's Kate. She always knows when it's too much.

Ellery makes those happy chirping baby noises as she moves, speed-crawling for - of course - the stairs, nearly cackling with laughter as she makes it.

And then Castle sees his son on the middle step, staring down at his sister.

"Ellie. Ellie, you can _go_." His eyes dart up to Kate's first, then find Castle's. "My baby can _really go._"


	3. Chapter 3

**Take Me Out to the Ball Game**

* * *

"A lot of firsts for you today," Kate murmurs into her baby girl's ear. Ellery sits on her lap, Kate's arms curled around her and her torso draped over the baby in a squeeze. Ella laughs and reaches out with two grasping hands as if she can take the ball right out of the air.

First baseball game, first crawl. First time to see a foul ball up close and personal. Their season seats are in a nice open section but there was still that mad scramble for the ball that Ellery thoroughly enjoyed, clapping her hands together and bouncing. Now every time a little boy goes running past with a glove or each time a concession worker steps down the stairs, Ella watches hungrily, expecting action.

Dashiell has a foam finger - Castle bought him one _again_ - and he keeps tapping Ella's head with it, often knocking Kate in the process. She finally reaches up and snags it, pulls it off his hand with a raised eyebrow.

"What did I say?"

He hunches back in his seat, shrinking from her stern face, and Castle on his other side puts an arm around Dash. "Tell Mommy you're sorry."

"Sorry, Mommy," Dash mumbles, and then he crawls into Castle's lap to watch the game.

Kate's not giving him back the foam finger. Nope. Not-uh.

Ellery chirps in her lap and Kate glances down to see her chewing on a corner of her soft blanket, the brown and mint green polka dot one that she has to drag around with her. Kate has got to remember to wash it after today - a ketchup spill courtesy of big brother and she swears it smells like beer. Maybe that's just the stadium.

It's only the second inning, but the Yankees pitcher is getting beat up out there. Hit after hit keeps on coming and soon Dashiell is groaning with every pitch, throwing up his hands in disgust to mimic the diehard fan in front of them. Since it's August, these games _count_ and if the Yankees can't manage to pull it together in the last run up to the post-season, there won't be a post-season.

"Wow. This guy's getting hammered," Castle says with a laugh. "I've never seen a starter get completely pummeled before."

"I don't know what's wrong with him," Kate sighs, cupping her hand around the container of snacks that Ella keeps trying to throw. "His last start was good."

Dashiell sighs too, a long and heavy thing. "No command."

Kate bursts out laughing, has to clap her hand over her mouth at the downright acidic look Dash is giving her from Castle's lap, and she shakes her head. "No, I'm sorry. You're exactly right, Dash, honey. He's got no command over his fastball and his slider just looks like a pitch in the dirt."

"Paint the corners."

She suppresses the urge to laugh, once again, at how much baseball knowledge Dashiell has managed to squirrel away in his head, and instead she nods sagely. "You're right. He used to paint the corners, but now he's leaving it over the fat part of the plate."

"Down the middle."

"Right down the middle," she affirms.

"The fat part?" he asks, but she can tell he's just trying the phrase out, seeing how it sounds. He likes the baseball jargon almost as much as the game itself. But she was here for his first game, she saw his love for baseball when he was only eighteen months old, and she knows for a fact that the love of words came second.

"Hey, switch with me," Castle says suddenly. "You two are gonna talk baseball."

_And I want my baby, _he doesn't say.

Kate gives in, handing Ellery over to her father even as Dashiell climbs over the seats towards her. In this section, the chairs swivel and have a nice table in front of them with actual space between each seat. It makes her a little nervous to watch Dash balance his way across the gaps, but only because the boy is so very accident-prone.

Still he arrives safely and drops into her lap, snuggling down, pulling her arms around his waist to tuck himself in. She cups his cheek and kisses him for that, making him wriggle like a worm, and they settle in to watch the game.

"Know what the manager does when it gets bad?" she says.

"So bad?"

"Yeah, if the pitcher digs too deep of a hole and he can't get out of it, then the pitching coach will call up a guy to start throwing a few, get warmed up in the bullpen so he can take his place."

"A new pitcher."

"That's right. We call those middle relievers."

"Middle. . .relief."

"Relievers," she says softly.

"Mommy, I get warmed up with you?"

She grins against the top of his head. "You want to play catch with me?"

"Baseball."

"Yeah, baby, we can do that." She turns and puts her cheek to his head, glances at Castle who is playing some goofy game of peek-a-boo with their daughter, making her giggle like crazy. "Daddy might want to play catch too."

"Daddy?"

"I know. Shocking, isn't it? But I think it would make Daddy happy to play with you."

"You warm up with me first?"

"I'll still play, yeah. Of course."

Dashiell hums and his little fingers pat over her hands, contented.

"You want to be a baseball player when you grow up?" she asks, can't help wondering what dreams he has in his head, a personality right from the beginning whereas Ella has been quiet and slow to show herself.

"I do that? I play baseball?"

Huh. Well. "You can work on it. We can sign you up for little league when you're old enough." Maybe. He is just so. . .clumsy a kid. "What position would you want to play?"

"I play first."

"Oh?" Jeter is shortstop and she would have sworn he would pick Jeter's position. "First base, huh?"

"I first."

Hmm. Okay.

"Ella be second."

She cracks a smile and kisses his cheek for that. "Okay, yeah, I see. But you know what?"

"What, Mommy?" he sighs, sounding so _happy_ that it makes her arms squeeze around him a little tighter, her chest clenching just the same.

"I was just gonna say that when I fill out the score card-"

"With the numbers?"

"Yes. And if the pitcher catches a line drive back at his head and it's an out? I write down a one. Because on the field, the pitcher is first."

"Ohhh," Dashiell says, turning around in her arms to give her a look. "Cool."

She grins back, knowing he would like that.

"What is first?" he asks, eyebrows knitting as he glances at the field once more.

She points toward the diamond and gives him the numbers, even though she knows they've talked about this before. "First is the pitcher, number two is the catcher, and then you go in order of the bases, so the first baseman is three."

"Three. I almost three."

"You are, uh-huh. Getting to be big."

"When I three, I can be first?"

She laughs then and settles back into her seat, giving up on the finer points of the game. He might have a lot of baseball knowledge in his head, but she doesn't need to stuff it too full. He'll figure it out. Just like she did over the years, going to games with her father. "Yeah, baby, you can be first any time you like."

"And you and Daddy warm me up."

She doesn't even try to make the distinction. "We'll warm you up. Count on it."

"I do love baseball," Dash says happily, sitting forward in her lap to applaud with the crowd as the pitcher finally gets the Yankees out of the inning. Now for the offense to make some noise.

"Make some noise!" Dashiell yells, cupping his hands around his mouth.

Oops. Guess she really has filled his head with baseball.

She turns and meets Castle's laughing eyes, and all she can do is shrug and bite her bottom lip, kinda proud of her kid and his excitement. Proud he's like Castle - so _passionate_ about something, even if it's ultimately trivial.

Well, no. Her family is all here at a baseball game, enjoying it and each other, so no. No, it's not trivial at all.

* * *

"Let's go, Yankees!" Dashiell chants with the crowd, clapping in time, and Castle shoots his wife an amused look.

But she's cheering too, just as caught up. It's only the fifth inning - it feels like it's been going on forever - and Ellery is officially done. Or well, she's too restless and whiny to sit still in their seats any longer. Time for a distraction.

Castle tugs on Kate's sleeve, the two of them sitting on either side of Dashiell in the middle, and she glances at him with that absorbed and concentrated look.

"I'm gonna walk with Ella," he murmurs.

"Oh. You want me to-"

"No, no. We're good. Just a little restless. Both of us," he adds with a wink. She flushes - why she gets embarrassed about how much she loves baseball, he has no idea - and she nods and gestures towards the concessions behind him.

"Want to get us all d-e-s-s-e-r-t?" she spells out.

"Yes! Dessert!" Dashiell says with a bounce, popping up in his seat and sticking his face between his parents. "Please? Can we have ice cream sundaes?"

"Oops," she sighs.

Castle grins. "We can. I'll get enough for all of us and the waitress will come down and deliver them, okay?"

"Yay!" Dash cheers, and Castle gives the kid credit for cheering louder for his baseball team than he does for the ice cream. "Go now, Daddy."

"All right, all right," he laughs, curling his arm around Ella's head as he stands. He shuffles out of their row - this luxury seating is so convenient, the room and the waiters and the nicer chairs and the little table - and as he moves, Kate brushes her hand at his waist in good-bye.

He gives her a bright smile and a little wave, and he starts up the stadium steps with Ella in his arms.

"Let's see what we can see, huh, baby girl?"

* * *

For some reason, the Yankees have big costumed ballpark concession foods roaming the concourse. Perhaps they're supposed to race around the field during the 7th inning stretch, but right now they're entertaining kids near the sushi bar.

And Ellery is entertained.

Castle stands about twenty feet away from the big yellow mustard, kids throwing themselves into the cartoon's foam belly, trying to ask him questions, posing for pictures, snagging hugs. The Mustard pantomimes for the most part while Ketchup and - is that Horseradish? - act out some kind of duel for the throngs of kids.

Ellery is straining forward to see, her blue eyes under that dark hair so riveted. Castle walks them closer and she stiffens up, but with surprise rather than fear, her hands clapping together. She rocks back and gives him a wide smile, and then she's watching Mustard give out hugs again.

And then Mustard comes for them.

Ellery throws out her arms and reaches for him, making her happy baby noises, and Mustard gives her an awkward embrace of yellow foam and pats her on the back while Castle tries not to drop her.

When Mustard pulls away, she starts to bounce in Castle's arms, her hands still reaching for the costumed condiments, and then Ketchup gets in on the act, hugging her and rocking a little, playing it up. Now people are watching Ella interact with the foam ballpark foods, taking pictures on their phones, other kids with their faces tilted up to see.

"Hey guys," he says good-naturedly. "Thanks. Ellery, the Yankees don't have a mascot, so this is about as close as you're gonna get."

Horseradish puts both massive clown hands to his goofy face and hunches his shoulders like he's giggling - oh, wait, that's a she. There's a bow in Horseradish's, um. . .hair? and she dips her green-stockinged knees and reaches in to tickle Ellery.

His daughter gives a laugh and squirms in his arms, still kicking and happy, and then she reaches out and grabs a big fistful of Mustard's smooth neck. Well, the neck of the bottle. Or-

Whatever it is.

"Whoa, baby girl. Soft touch," Castle chuckles and reaches up to unfurl her fist. "Let go of Mustard so he can say hi to all these other kids. Okay?"

Ketchup is already waving bye-bye, elaborate and comical, and Horseradish is blowing kisses, and then Ellery, who they have tried over and over to get her to do the same, is smacking her palm into her mouth and throwing it away - blowing kisses back.

Castle stands there dumb-founded for a second, but he has to laugh. "Of course. The over-the-top condiments at a Yankees game are the ones that do it for you. Mommy's gonna be so mad she missed it."

Ellery is still blowing kisses like she's not eight months old but eighteen instead, and Castle figures, in some dark part of his heart, that this is exactly what he has to look forward to from his youngest daughter in the coming years.

And those blue eyes, just like Alexis's, are going to knock 'em dead.

At least her mother is a cop. That should hold some of them off.

* * *

At some point along their tour of the stadium, Castle finds the memorabilia hallway and reads Ellery the plaques out loud, giving her baseball statistics and late-inning comebacks like she (or he) actually cares about Yankees trivia. Dash would like it though; he'll have to remember for next time.

When they get to the middle of the hallway, kids and parents, thugs and teens, school trips and seniors are spilling around them, heading for their seats with hands burdened by food or beer, or going the opposite direction and walking a little too quickly for the bathroom or a concession line.

It's here where they find the mascot.

Behind glass, an out of the way display with an almost shameful sounding tone to the words on the plaque. Castle reads it quickly to himself and chuckles, glancing up at the strange looking. . .man?

Cleats on his feet, blue furry legs like Grover on Sesame Street, and then a pudgy, big-belted belly encased in a furry Yankees pinstripe uniform. One hand rests on a bat while the other is posed to wave, and above the collar of the jersey is a face with bright orange-red mustache and flaming hair topped by a Yankees hat. All of it is furry, all of it is hideous, really, and the plaque gives its origins as being mysteriously denied across the Yankees organization.

"Look at this guy, Ellery. This is Dandy, the Yankees mascot from '79 to '81. He looks like a fat Grover."

Ella chortles at that, her legs moving against him, and she leans forward to plant her hands against the glass.

"Yeah, I know you're in love with the puppets. I get it. Let's see what it says here. Dandy was developed by the same people who made the Phillie Phanatic - oh, yes, I see the resemblance. Scary. And what else? Oh, he appears to be modeled after former Yankees catcher Thurman Munson."

He laughs a little at the way Ellery is just making moon eyes at the mascot, so adoring and yearning. Darn - that's the same way she looked at _him_ this morning when he got her out of her crib. So fickle, the young.

Castle goes back to reading the plaque, wincing and lowering his voice. "Oh yikes, baby girl, Munson died in a plane crash right after they made the mascot, so they had to delay his release. Cursed from the start, sounds like."

He races ahead in his reading, glancing at Ellery once more. She's turned back to him as if actually waiting for the next bit of information, and he shakes his head and keeps telling her the story.

"Listen to this - Steinbrenner gave final approval to Dandy, but he claims he has no memory of it. Not only that, he said that mascots had no place in baseball after this really famous _hexing _incident in Seattle. Wait. _What_?"

Castle reads on but there's nothing more about a 'hexing' incident, no more information, and so he juggles Ellery to his other arm and pulls his phone out of his pocket. He has _got_ to know the story on this one.

"Oh, Ella, baby girl. This is _crazy_," he says with delight. He lifts his eyes to hers and she's peering down at his phone as if impatient for the story. "Okay, okay. Hold on. Let me read and I'll tell you."

He scans the rest of the article quickly, amused by the seriousness with which it's written, and then he gives it back to Ella, jostling her in his arm so she can see the mascot again.

"Okay, here's the story. On July 10th in 1979, the Yankees were playing an out of town game against Seattle. But the San Diego Chicken - which was, at that time, leased to other ballparks and not just stuck in San Diego (look at that, Ella, a traveling chicken)-"

Ellery squeals and claps her hands in the middle of his story, smacking a hand against the glass as if getting Dandy's attention. Castle shuffles back a little bit, keeping her away, and continues.

"So. In the middle of the game, the on-loan San Diego Chicken puts a - get this, I swear it says this - a 'very public hex' on the Yankees pitcher Ron Guidry."

Castle stares down at the article for another long moment then glances up at his daughter. "Seriously. I promise. A very public hex. Don't give me that look, baby girl. Just like your mother. I swear this guy is taking the hex very seriously. And what do I know about baseball? There could be hexes. Like Harry Potter only with. . .chickens."

Ellery's little frowning brow melts away in the next instant, and she chirps at him like she's asking, _What next, Daddy?_

At least, she is in his head.

"So the hex infuriates outfielder Lou Piniella, who decides that the chicken was out of line. And then Piniella _charges_ the Chicken. I swear, it's right here in black and white. He _ran after a chicken_. Well, a guy in a suit, really."

Ellery must enjoy his delivery, because she's absolutely cracking up now. Laughing at him in that deep and hearty baby way, where she can barely stop and her body is tense and curled around his arm with her mirth.

"When Piniella charges after the chicken, he can't quite catch him. Wily San Diego Chicken, huh? So Piniella takes off his glove and chucks it at the bird. The umpire has to pull them apart."

Ellery still laughs, harder now, if that's possible, and he's getting these knowing and pleased smiles from women as they pass him, mothers with those _isn't that darling?_ looks on their faces, and Castle can't help but lean in and kiss Ellery's cheek for it.

When he pulls back, he continues the story.

"Of course, the fans at the game ridiculed Piniella and the Yankees players for letting a bird get to them, and the Yankees went home in something like disgrace. Steinbrenner apparently even had to step out on the field and separate his player and the chicken. It was a dark day in Yankees history. No wonder poor Dandy is shoved off back here."

And how much does Castle love that he gets to discover it with his giggling baby girl? How she lights up for him, just at the sound of his voice, how she enjoys being with him.

He puts his phone away and wraps both his arms around her even as a cheer goes up from the crowd, thunderous.

"Let's go find our seats. Dash is gonna be asking after his ice cream sundae."

And Ellery worms her way down in his arms, her cheek against his chest, and he carries her back to their section, her warm body and her joy leaking out and making the whole concourse shine.


	4. Chapter 4

**Take Me Out to the Ball Game**

* * *

The one perfect thing about a day game is that when they finally get home, they're in for good. Dashiell slumps onto the couch completely worn out and falling apart after having held himself together for four hours, and Ellery is already asleep. Castle drops the bag on the floor and follows Dash to the couch, bouncing him on the cushions to make him giggle a little. Kate stays for a moment to be sure Dash can handle it, and then she heads for the stairs with Ella sacked out in her arms.

She takes each step carefully, slowly, abstractly listening to Castle's quiet conversation with their wild man. The upstairs hall is quiet and dark, and the warm, soft body against hers, the sleep-sweat clinging to her chest, makes Kate want to stay like this forever.

Or at least for a moment longer. Steal some time with her baby.

She hesitates at the open doorway to the girls' room, swaying with Ellery as she starts to stir, waiting for her to settle back into deeper sleep. The tiny shell of her ear is nearly hidden by the soft fall of hair that curls at the ends, much like Dashiell's did at this age, but so much darker. It's just begun to touch her neck, and Kate runs her fingers through the wispy ends as she sits down in the armchair by the bed.

Ella has never needed to be rocked, only held. She always peers up at the one holding her, eyes growing more and more sleepy, drooping, and then she drops right off the edge into slumber. So easy it almost feels like a gift.

Kate keeps her close, brushing her lips along the smooth forehead, her fingers still stroking through Ellery's hair. She smells like the cotton candy from the ballpark, and sweat in the sunshine, and the soap Kate uses on her in the bath. Her little fist is bunched in Kate's shirt and has been since she fell asleep on the subway back. Castle spent the ride corralling Dashiell, keeping him from jumping all over his mother and little sister, but now everything is at peace.

She should go. Dash is probably starving and Castle won't think of it in time to stop a major meltdown. She should get up and put her baby down for a nap, but she doesn't.

She kisses Ella's temple, the side of her cheek, breathes in the stillness and the quiet and the heavy little body trusting her.

She dwells there, realizing she needs it.

* * *

Castle loops his arm around Dash and hauls him up, his spindly arms and legs sprawling as he giggles, a little hysterical with exhaustion.

"Hey, since Mom's taking her time, let's get a snack. Want some cereal?"

Dash bounces back to the couch and squirms down, moving clumsily as he does, knocking into the coffee table and then the edge of the armchair, ricocheting towards the kitchen.

"Oof, buddy. You okay?"

"Can I pick?"

"Cereal? Sure." He leans over and scoops the kid up, heads for the pantry door to open it for Dash's inspection. They must see it at the same time because Dash lunges for the Cocoa Pebbles right when Castle does.

"Yes! That!"

"Haha, great minds, son." He pulls out the Pebbles and carries the box to the counter, deposits Dash on top as he gets out bowls. Dashiell is already poking his fingers inside the plastic liner, digging out a handful of chocolate cereal.

"I love Cocoa Pebbles, Daddy."

"Me too. I bought them on the sly, so shhhh."

He glances back towards the staircase but Kate is nowhere in sight. Maybe she and Ellery are having snuggle fest up there; Kate does that sometimes and he'd be jealous but that means he gets to eat Cocoa Pebbles with his kid.

"Hey, look what happens when we add milk," he says, dragging the gallon out of the fridge. "Whoa, stay there, buddy. I'll show you."

Dash stops trying to jump off the counter, drops back on his haunches as Castle first dumps cereal into both bowls. He tops Dashiell's off pretty high, imagining all the fun of digging in, even as Dash's eyes grow wide.

"Daddy. All that cereal."

"I know. Stick with me, kiddo."

"I stick."

He grins and untwists the top from the organic milk Kate likes to buy, pours it over the cereal.

"What's it doing, Daddy?"

"Watch. By the time we finish our cereal, we'll have chocolate milk. It's magic."

Dashiell's mouth drops open. "Chocolate milk?"

"Yup. The power of Cocoa Pebbles. Here. Let me put you in a chair."

"I can get a chair," Dashiell says, crawling across the counter now and heading for the gap between the kitchen work top and the island like he's going to jump it.

Castle comes up and wraps an arm around his torso, heaves him across the space rather than trying to scold him for it; they're both too tired for that. Dashiell giggles and holds his arms out for a landing, plants hard on the kitchen island before scrambling over to the bar and down into his chair. He gets situated and his face peers up at Castle over the granite, dark eyes and brown hair, cheeks pink from the sun, and that pressed-lip, pleased smile.

For a surreal moment, Dashiell is both Kate and her beaming glances and also Castle and his whole-face smiles, and the blend of both of them in his son's patient wait for his Cocoa Pebbles makes Castle ache.

Dash's fingers drum against the bar. "Daddy."

"Right," he says gruffly, clearing his throat. "Yes, cereal. Coming right up."

Dashiell opens his palms for his bowl, his eyes wide and receiving, delighted, while Castle drops a spoon at his place and gets his own cereal as well.

They sit side by side at the bar and dig in, Castle grinning when Dash crows over finding his magic chocolate milk.

* * *

"Have you been making up the rules?" Kate asks, dumping her converse off the side of the couch and pushing her sweaty feet into his lap. She nudged his hands and Castle grimaces but takes them, his thumb digging hard into her arch. "Ah-ah. Oh, nice. Right there."

"Sexy," he smirks at her, but they're both sacked out on the couch with Dashiell hopefully close to asleep under the coffee table, one of his favorite shows on repeat play. "What do you mean, making up the rules?"

"About baseball," she clarifies, hiding a yawn behind her hand. When she got downstairs, both boys had mischievous grins on their faces and smelled like sugary cereal. She'd be upset if she weren't so grateful the kid has been fed and seems to be settled for the night.

"Oh. Yeah. He asks questions. I like to have answers. Why? Did he repeat something I said?"

"You know he did, Castle," she laughs, digging her heel into his thigh for it. "He told me that every year they pull in the outfield wall because people come to games to see home runs. And so in twenty years, the park will be tiny."

"It could be true," he defends. "I think he was telling me that Jeter had more home runs this year and why, Daddy? So I told him the they shrink the yard."

"You're terrible," she laughs again, leaning her cheek against the couch to watch him.

"Yeah, I like it better when you come to games. You get to answer all the hard questions."

She hums and shakes her head at him, pretty pleased herself that she got to see the game today. "If you don't know, tell him you don't know. Less damage to undo."

"Naw, he'll figure it out eventually, and it's always fun to hear my wild theories repeated back to me, coming out of that little mouth. He's so _serious_ about it, Kate."

She rolls her eyes and scoots down in the couch, taking up more room and tilting back against the arm, letting her body relax into it. "Baseball is serious, Castle. Don't be infecting my kid with your wild theories."

He chuckles and grinds his knuckle into her foot, making her groan. "Baseball is fun, Kate, not serious. We have fun when we go, don't we?"

"Loads," she mutters, but she pops her eyes open when his hands go still. He's studying her and she gives him a softer smile, strokes her foot against his thigh. "Yes. And today was perfect."

He grins back at her, a little bit like relief, a lot like love. "Oh. Yeah, I might have told Dashiell a story today about what a perfect game was - since everyone was talking about it being a no-hitter."

"Castle," she grunts, wrinkling her nose at him. "Today? When did you even have _time_ for that?"

"He's quick. I'm quick. We got a thing, Dash and me."

"You're incorrigible. What did you tell him?"

"I said a perfect game was when all your favorite players were on the field and you had everybody you loved sitting in the stands with you, and then your team wins."

Her smile breaks across her face and she melts against the cushions. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. And Dash said it wasn't yet a perfect game."

Kate snorts. "Jeter, right?"

"Nope. Actually, he said he needed Gram and Papa and Allie. And then it would be perfect."

She presses her hand to her cheek and draws her feet out of his lap so she can crawl up next to him, curling in at his side, their bodies flush as his arms come around her. "That sounds pretty perfect," she murmurs back.

"Yeah, I thought so too."


End file.
